


No Regrets (Or Maybe Just One)

by HiMiTSu



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Heartbreak, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a tumbrl prompt: "angst merlahad. I don't even have anything specific in mind, they could both suffer (emotionally) but especially I'd like it from Merlin's part (basically, devastated Merlin?). Break my heart!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Regrets (Or Maybe Just One)

**Author's Note:**

> Now a translation to Chinese is avaliable: http://harumidori.lofter.com/post/3b4c29_ac4b160

He whirls around just in time to catch a bullet in his shoulder and see a glimpse of the shooter’s face. The hit throws him back and, weakened as he is, Merlin falls back on the ground. The only thing he remembers then is the sky – heavy with the oncoming rain, dark grey clouds swimming overhead.

The pain is blossoming in his shoulder and multiple scrapes and bruises cover his body, but the physical pain has nothing on the feeling tearing his chest open. They screwed up. Badly. The intel was not enough, not even nearly close to what they expected and instead of fighting through a dozen men they were met with a what feels like a hundred enemies. Worse than that, they got separated.

The last Merlin saw of Lancelot the old man was in a shootout with a squad of men all dressed in combat gear, hiding behind the hangar door, trying to take them down one after another. Merlin has no idea how that ended and, of he is honest with himself he is significantly more worried about another member of the team. While they left Lancelot to keep the attackers at bay, he and Galahad rushed through the facility in search of the kidnapped family. At that point they still thought everything was going fine.

Merlin hears the footsteps crunching on the gravel path as the man who shot him approaches. There is nothing particularly sinister in his face, even nothing memorable, but the gun in his hand is trained on Merlin and the ease with which the man carries it means he won’t think twice about this kill.

Merlin just hopes his friends can get out of here alive. At that moment, on a threshold of death, he feels as if he can bend the universe to his will by the force of his desire. He needs to know that Harry will be alright. He can’t, but he hopes that a sheer force of his belief would be enough. Of course it won’t, but that cannot be his last thought. So, silently, Merlin prays and believes and closes his eyes so that the last thing he sees would be Harry’s face. A smile, one that is so difficult to coax out of him, his blue eyes, shining with mischief. Merlin loves this side of him, hidden behind layers of decency and politeness.

He blacks out from the pain before the shot comes.

* * *

 

Merlin wakes up to the flurry of sound and lights that make his eyes sting, but he is quick to recognize the familiar room. One of them must have called the extraction team then. He is the only patient in the room and the doctors and nurses won’t tell him what had happened to the others. They heal his broken body but there is nothing they can do for the pain that drains his soul. When they disappear, leaving him in the quiet for the night with no more news about his teammates, Merlin struggles with his jagged memories to piece together what had happened. He knows Lancelot was in trouble when they separated, but he didn’t know anything concrete about Galahad’s situation at that point in time. Harry had gone ahead with the rescue while Merlin tried to come up with a better way out.

Merlin remembers hearing an explosion in the distance but when he turned to see an unexpected surprise of a bullet in his shoulder caught him off guard. He didn’t have time to process what he saw at the time, but now he remembers fire behind the man who shot him, a building engulfed in red and orange…and that was exactly where they thought the captives should be. Exactly where Harry was heading.

Merlin wants to get up and go around the Kingsman headquarters until he meets someone who’ll give him answers, or until he stumbles upon Harry himself. But he is too weak from the pain meds and also pretty sure the door is locked – everyone knows what a terrible patient he can be. And so Merlin waits, and sleeps with the terrible nightmares that won’t dare show themselves when he is awake, enter his dreams and make him gasp and scream and hope for the best.

Three days later Arthur comes. He looks somber and he’s got a folder in his hand; when he enters the room Merlin doesn’t feel like asking questions anymore, swamped by the reality of their failure he is terrified to finally be given answers.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur asks casually, but Merlin quickly puts an end to small talk.

“Terrible. But that’s not why you are here.”

“Alright,” Arthur nods. “Lancelot is dead. Shot, multiple times.”

“Galahad?” Merlin’s voice does not break, he is proud how the question comes out steady but the pity in Arthur’s eyes is so prominent, he knows instantly he is not fooling anyone.

“Alive. But in a bad condition. He is burnt badly from the explosion, has not yet regained consciousness, but the doctors are optimistic.” Arthur is not unkind, but he is also detached and professional.

“What about the hostages?”

“They had been dead even before you started the mission.”

“So it had been a trap.”

“A very well thought-through trap,” he states in a tone that is so carefully emotionless. He is looking at his as an analytic going over a problem; just as Merlin should be but cannot. He is angry, he is desolate, he is so scared he can barely think… “I’ve sent Gawain and Percival to investigate. You will be staying in the mansion for the time of your recovery, so I’d like you to take care of this.”

He drops the folder into Merlin’s hands, it contains dossiers. Young people with bright faces look up at him from the pages – candidates. They need a new Lancelot. The task seems so trivial in the wake of the disaster; Merlin wants in on the investigation team, to find out who did this to them, take action…but he knows that won’t be a good idea. He already let his emotions take better of him once when he asked Lancelot to stay back and cover for them even though Galahad was better in close combat. Lancelot had paid the price for that mistake, and still Merlin can’t bring himself to regret it.

Merlin grips the folder and nods to Arthur, he will take care of this.

Arthur is silent after this, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, as if there is something else he wants to say but is rather reluctant to do so. When he meets Merlin’s eyes, there is finally some sadness in them. “About your relationship with Galahad…”

Merlin is the one to look away this time. He knows what is needed to be done. “I will end it.”

“I’m not asking for such drastic measures; however I must insist you do not share missions if possible.”

Merlin shakes his head, “It cannot go on this way. It is clouding my judgment and that is unacceptable.”

“What happened was not your fault.”

“It is my responsibility.”

He can feel Arthur’s gaze locked on the side of his face for a long moment  but does not turn to meet it. This is the right decision, there is no doubt about it. Still doesn’t mean it is not tearing him apart.  But he can’t put Harry before any other agent, thus he needs to destroy his reason to do so. It is the right way.

* * *

 

The grave is very tidy and cared for; the mansion staff look after their small cemetery as well. There are not that many graves to begin with – only those who did not have any close family that wanted the fallen Kingsmen to be buried at home. The headstones have real names etched into them. Merlin visits them from time to time, to pay his colleagues their due. At least that’s how it used to be.

Now he just wants to be closer to Harry. His stone is like any other, simple and impersonal, and still every time Merlin comes he feels like he misses him just a little less.

He runs his fingers over the downturn of the stone, so cold under his hands, and remembers the curve of Harry’s smile. How he had first seen it all those years ago, how exasperated he was with this handsome young man with a smug grin that nothing could wipe off. It was later when Harry learned to hide his smiles and Merlin had to work so much harder to get them.

He remembers the first time they kissed; how gentle it was, how simple everything seemed, how Harry tasted of tea and Merlin had absolutely no idea what to with this. They got together simply because there was no other way for them to exist: a pull stronger than gravity drove them to each other. At that time Merlin could not be happier. He never was really – never happier than during those years, which passed by so swiftly.

Merlin remembers how his beloved smile turned into a confused frown when he first told Harry that they should not continue with their relationship anymore, how Harry’s expression shut off as he listened patiently to Merlin’s explanation. He agreed, because it was Harry and he knew Merlin better than anyone and so realized there was no swaying his partner in his decision. However ridiculous Harry might have found it.

And now, years later, standing at Harry’s grave, their first kiss, just like their last, nothing but a distant memory – he cannot remember the feeling, cannot recall the taste,  when and why it had happened – Merlin knows that it was a foolish resolution. Not being with Harry did not mean not caring about him any less. Turned out, nothing could make him fall out of love, not even time. Not even death.

So Merlin stands at his grave, flowers in his hand and weeps silently, regretting the horrible mistake he had done years ago.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters to the unresponsive stone. “I love you.”

 

 


End file.
